Law school was hard, really hard. The teaching was patterned after the Socratic method of inquiry and debate with the professors posing questions to us, the students. Students stood when called upon and recited the case law that applied to the question posed.

I kept both head and arms down in law school, rarely volunteering to participate. I was a good listener and I kept it that way for all three years.

The exception to my lack of participation was in my civil procedure class. For some reason that was never clear, my professor in civil procedure called on yours truly almost daily. There were a good 50 students in the class. During a session only four or five students would be called upon. I was almost always one of the select few.

My fellow classmates would sometimes snicker when I got called on to recite - they snickered because the inevitable event was so predictable it was funny. The professor seemed oblivious to his habit - or so he made it seem.

But trust me, I knew my civil procedure, and I still do. The need to be prepared for the inevitable question made me master the subject.

So I've got a thought concerning the great health care debate. Since the proposed legislation is destined to forever change our economy, our lives and future generations, let's make certain that the lawmakers enacting the legislation understand every line, every comma, and every unintended consequence.

Mocking those lawmakers who keep saying "read the law," Representative John Conyers (D-Michigan) is quoted asking what sense it would make for him to take two days and lawyers on either side of him to read and interpret the 1,000 pages of proposed legislation.

In my book, that kind of thinking should render Conyers, and those like him, ineligible to vote on the legislation. I contend that the voters of this monstrous, destiny changing legislation must understand it. That said, if when called upon, any representative can't answer any and all questions on said legislation, well then I want his or her silence and inaction, not some ignorant party loyalty in the form of a yes vote.

It's really not too much to ask that our elected representatives understand the legislation they vote upon. And the concept is really not as abstract or impossible as it seems. A simple affidavit sworn under oath could be mandatory for each lawmaker to swear that he or she has read and understood the legislation being voted upon.

If our lawmakers refuse to even read, let alone understand, what they enact, they violate the spirit of the democracy they pretend to uphold.

Country candor

Driving along the Carrollton Road last Sunday, we passed three bicyclers headed south. The three cyclists road in single formation, hugging the edge of the pavement. Each cyclist had a helmet on and you could sense their focus on the road ahead and the traffic passing them.

Observing these three, it struck me that in the country the bicyclist is under no false pretenses concerning his or her own safety. If you ride a bike on a country road you better be really careful - period.

In Chicago, this is not the case. The city has made an enormous false promise to the bicyclist. By painting a yellow line on the city streets and calling it a bike lane, the city has said: "come ride, this lane is for you, we can all share, it will be all right."

The dedicated lane that Chicago has created for bicyclists also happens to be the pavement over which parked cars open their doors. It is the same pavement where turning cars cross to turn at corners. The bike lane is the same space where drivers accidentally veer into as they talk on cell phones or text message or sneeze. It is a very dangerous place.

Big government makes big gratuitous promises that it can never deliver. "Come, it will be all right." But out in the country, it's obvious the promises are few.

Funny, it turns out that the country way is ultimately the safer one.